What Are We Called?
by fallic
Summary: Before the Marauders... What were they? How the term came to be. Second year. PG13 for language. R


It was a fine day, as fine as days could get in the late fall. The ground was slightly soggy, like walking on a sponge that can't take in any more water, but the sky was clear, the same light blue of veins that ran just under his wrist. Sirius was comparing the colours, leaning against a tree with his arm lifted up, the sleeve of his jacket tugged down a little ways so that he could see. A lull had slipped into their conversation, Remus turning back to the book that he had as James teetered back and forth above them on one of the branches. Peter was standing just to the side, looking up at him in concern, as if he might fall at any moment, and Peter was willing to throw his body beneath him to save James from a sprained ankle. The group of second year boys were bored, that much was obvious.

"So. I've been thinking—" Sirius said finally, breaking the tentative silence, and James gave a snicker.

"That's a first."

"Shut up. So, I was thinking—What are we?" The question was met by slightly confused silence.

"Blokes?"

"Wizards?"

"Homo Sapiens?"

"Second-years?"

"Gryffindors?"

"Carbon-based life forms?"

Sirius waved his hands dismissively to all of them, shaking his head. "No no no. That's not what I mean and you know it, Remus. Stop it." Remus gave him a small smirk, and Sirius glowered at him in return, although everyone knew that his bark was louder than his bite. "I mean… I mean, we're prankers, right?"

James gave a noise that he thought made him sound informed, and instead sounded as through he was impressed by something shiny. "Oh, yeah. We're those, definitely. Ace prankers, we are." It was met by silence from Remus, who had looked back down into his book, while Peter's head bobbed dangerously on his neck.

"Yeah, but… What are we? I mean, like. Last week, remember? When we gave Snape the falsetto. Everyone knew we did it, right?"

"They saw you hex him, Sirius." Remus murmured into his pages, and Sirius continued anyway.

"But… who'd they say did it?"

"You." The three other boys replied practically in unison.

"No, I mean—The four of us. What do they call us, you think?"

"Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew?"

"Thank you Captain Obvious." That particular ounce of sarcasm earned Remus a dirty look, to which the dirty blonde only grinned into the pages of his book.

"Nah. Probably just Potter and Company. Terrorizing the Masses since 1971. We make house calls!" And without the respect held for Remus (mainly because Sirius knew that if he got the book muddy he wouldn't hear the end of it), James promptly had a small branch thrown at him, since nothing else came in handy. Unfortunately, small branches do not make the best projectiles when tossed idly over ones shoulder, and instead it clattered against the trunk of the tree, a good three feet off target.

"That's stupid, James. I mean—We're sorta like a club, right?"

"We're sort of like a group of friends who do things together on a quasi-regular basis."

"I thought I told you to shut up. You say something smart again, and I'll quasi-regular basis _you_. Right in the pants. With marmalade." No one mentioned that Remus' pants, jumpers, socks, shoes, and all other worn articles of clothing were already used to quasi-regular visits of various foodstuffs as ambassadors from Sirius.

"Are we like a club? Really? I've always wanted to be in a club." It was Peter who spoke up this time, looking at them brightly. "Once, my mum said I could join the local chess club, back at home, only when I went to ask if I could join, they all said that I din't know how to play chess—"

"That's because you don't. You only beat Sirius because his set likes to cheat for your favor out of spite."

"James! Merlin! Everyone shut up and let me talk! Yes, Pete. It is _exactly _like a club. A very exclusive, important club. The Pranking Club. That's what we are." It was met by the silence of three boys trying to decide what they thought of it.

"So. Basically, you're saying you want us to go about and say that we're A Pranking Club."

"The. The Pranking Club. Brill, huh?"

They thought for a bit more, chewing over this option.

"Nah. Sounds stupid."

"Pointless."

"Sounds a little queer, if you ask me."

Sirius threw his arms in the air and heaved a sigh. "Come on! We can't go about having people calling us Black, Lupin, Potter and Pettigrew—"

"Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew. Potter was first, mind you."

Sirius didn't know how many times he could tell people to shut up, and felt that he was reaching his daily quota. Instead he gave James an icy stare until the other boy filled in the words for himself, with a mumbled "Well it _was_."

"What I'm saying _is._ What I'm saying. Is we need a name for ourselves. We've already made one for ourselves, so why don't we have one?"

"That makes no sense at all, Sirius. Once you make yourself something, you have it. Presuming you aren't giving it away, or shoving it into someone's trousers, or burning it or something. It only stands to reason."

"Remus. You. Me. Marmalade. Tomorrow morning. We've got an appointment now. You know what I mean. We deserve a name, so we bloody need one."

"I don't see why. We're just, you know. Potter and His Lot. Those Blokes Who Skulk About With James. Everyone just _knows_ it."

"Stop saying your own name. I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't want to have to be known as 'His Lot'—"

"I don't mind so much."

"Well, _you _wouldn't, Peter. But I got myself some self respect."

"It's not a problem. You're known as the Git with a Big Ego."

"And nice hair. They do so mention your hair very often."

Sirius had to pause and try to gather his thoughts. "You never listen to me!" He whined it to the world in general, and started to settle in for a good bout of bitching, moaning and complaining in their equal parts, and then paused. "My hair? Really? You think they notice?"

"No, you narcissistic berk."

"Merlin, Remus. We had a chance at distracting him; don't go and ruin it right away!"

"Oh, so _that's _your plan, huh? Let it not be said that Sirius Black is not a terribly stubborn S.O.B. when he needs to be!" And then laughed at his own pun; initials like that just begged for it. His entire name was gagging for it, but he had worked through most of them in his first year, and was only occasionally prone to attacks of bad jokes. He trailed off anyway, and was looking sharply at Remus. "You mean, they don't? Notice my hair, that is. What are they, blind? Spun of silk and satin, this is." He touched his head to clarify, and then began to tug his hair lazily.

"If we don't bring it up again, are you going to start calling us The Pranking Club without permission?" James was the one who broke the silence, swinging his feet in front of him.

"I may have a few pre-signed thank-you notes, yes."

"And are we allowed to hazard our own suggestions?"

"I suppose. I mean, you won't get much better, but—"

"I have one!"

"You are not allowed to say 'Potter and Company', I'm guessing."

"You're not running the naming game, Remus!" James sounded that indignant. "And s'not what I was gunna say anyway."

"Or any variants thereof." James fell silent. Finally, a sullen:

"Spoilsport."

"Alright, all entries from James are null and void on the fact that we're not naming ourselves James and the Potters or anything equally stupid." Sirius' proclaimation made James gave a noise of discontent, and Peter looked up with big wibbly eyes to try and make the boy remove this new rule. Sirius was not moved.

"Pete? Any other ideas?" A smile was crawling on Sirius' lips. Of course he wouldn't. The Pranking Club, here we come.

"Well—I sort of liked the one's that James—"

"No. No, you don't. Your turn is forfet! Remus." Grey eyes turned to look at the boy who hadn't yet looked up from his book, despite his scathingly witty commentary. This might cause a problem.

'"Well. We're simply looking for a term which describes a number of people, who do things such as pranking, aren't we?" And Sirius got even more suspicious as he nodded slowly. "There's plenty of choices, then. I mean, looking at the types of pranks you do," A close eye looked at James, who had the decency to look slightly ashamed, and then Sirius, who didn't. "Well then. Let's see. Bandits, robbers, highwaymen, hooligans and rascals—"

"Hooligans?"

"Hooligans and rascals, yes." The thought over it for a few seconds, and James murmured the word once again, testing it on his tongue before shaking his head.

"Continue."

"Racketeer… Pirate, or a privateer, I suppose—"

"That's scraping the bottom of the barrel, Remus. Hup hup! You have thirty seconds!" Sirius was grinning more and more, having decided a time limit was necessary. Remus took a deep breath before he continued, eyes closed with concentration. With The Pranking Club still clear in his head, he spat out more options:

"Ruffians, gangsters, mobsters, barbarians, vandals, huns—"

"I think he's going off-topic."

"And getting slightly offensive, really. That was uncalled for."

"Hoodlums, brigands, roughs,"

"I didn't believe that came in plural,"

"Pillagers, ravagers, um—Marauders—" The last was forced out in a wheeze as Remus ran out of breath, just as Sirius finished ticked off seconds on his imaginary clock (where thirty seconds suddenly became fifteen), and did a rather annoying impression of a timer.

"Ding ding ding! Not quite fast enough there, Lupin old boy! Fortunately, this means that you're out of time, and thus, we shall henceforth be known as The—"

"Wait. What was that last one?" James was craning a head to look down at the other three boys, Sirius looking triumphant, Peter looking confused, and Remus looking out of breath.

"What?"

"That last one he said. What was it?"

"Marauders?" Remus' tone was almost hopeful.

"Marauders…" James was tasting the word, seeing how it fit, as he propped himself back on the branch. "I'm not sure. I like it. The Marauders. Pete?" The blonde's head bobbled up and down anxiously, agreeing with James. Sirius' grin was crumbling rapidly.

"I like it. Got a regal tone to it, Marauders." Remus said hurriedly, and James smirked before nodding.

"Yeah, yeah it does, ain't it?" Remus winced faintly, but was still looking hopeful. "Shall we vote on it? Three to one. Marauders we are." He said hurriedly, even though no one had the chance to put up a hand. Sirius was sulking, giving him a nasty look as James swung off from the tree and dropped to the ground. Sirius looked back down to the grass, scuffing his toe against a rock he found.

"Marauder, huh? I guess I can get used to being one…"


End file.
